Dead in the Water
by S-T-3-P-H-Y
Summary: Sam and Dean investigate a string of drownings in a small town. It seems like a simple haunting case, but appearances are deceiving. They face down an unknown and dangerous creature while struggling to strengthen their brotherly bond. In a relationship that has barely survived hell and back again, can Sam and Dean ever find a way to bridge the gap between them?
1. Chapter 1

The Docks of Stonington, Maine, 1 AM

Lightening flashed across the midnight blue sky as a white bearded fisherman trudged down the empty lamp-lit dock. The squeaking of his rubber boots was barely audible against the clap of thunder and roar of the chilly wind.

The bearded man dropped the traps into the small boat with a loud clank. The waves slapped against the side of his boat and sloshed over the side of the deck. He squinted up at the outline of clouds against the dark sky and started to think maybe he should wait and come back after storm passed. He scratched his bushy beard absentmindedly as he thought about it. Who knows how long the storm will last though? If he waits much longer, he won't catch anything.

As he bent down to untie the boat from the cleat, something white flickered across the edge of his vision. He glanced at the end of the dock. Seeing nothing, he returned to loosening the rope, thinking it was probably just a seagull.

Then he heard it – the most beautiful song in the world. A heavenly voice sang to him, filling him with overwhelming joy. Such a perfect voice must belong to an angel, he thought. Where was it coming from though? He looked down to the end of the dock once again.

A lovely woman with pearly white glowing hair and skin was in the water gazing at him. He stared back at her transfixed by her angelic beauty and singing. The rest of the world melted away until it was just the two of them. Tears of happiness ran down his cold cheeks, mixing with the wetness of the rain drops that he didn't even noticed. The blissful melody compelled him to go toward the woman in the sea. He did it without hesitation for he knew he would follow that voice to the ends of the earth.

He hurried down the wooden planks, eager to see her splendid radiance up close. She flashed him an alluring smile as he approached her, but her bright green eyes held only cruelty. Once he was standing at the end of the docks, a mere five feet in front of her, he noticed that she was not singing to him even though he could still hear the music. He opened his mouth to speak to her – to ask her what she was – but was interrupted by the change of the song.

The voice took on a heart breaking tone, echoing profound and everlasting sadness. It felt like a black hole was sucking away everything that mattered to him until he was left with nothing. The old man fell to his knees and wept uncontrollably. He didn't know if he could stand it any longer.

"Make it stop," he begged through his sobs. "P-please."

"Come to me and I'll make it all go away," she promised. When the woman spoke, her voice sounded nothing like the heavenly voice he heard in his head, it was full of hatred. Her smile twisted into spiteful one.

Even through the fog of overwhelming despair consuming him, he wanted to refuse her, but instead, he found himself rising from his knees. He couldn't seem to control his own body; he was under her control like a helpless bug caught in a black widow's web. The gale forced wind pounded against him as if trying to push him back from what he was about to do.

With fear lining his weather-beaten features, he looked down into the churning black water. The malevolent music commanded him to sink to the bottom of the ocean, and powerless to resist, he stepped off the end of the dock into the watery abyss.

**Chapter 1**

"Hey Dean," Sam shouted to wake up his brother. "Get up."

Dean groaned. "What is it?" he grumbled, throwing his arm over his eyes to block out the morning sunlight seeping through the windows.

"I think I've found something" Sam announced. He rose from the uncomfortable wooden table where his laptop was and stretched his long arms. Sam had been up most of the night trying to find a job while Dean was passed out drunk all night. How typical, Sam thought somewhat bitterly.

Dean reluctantly threw his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his forehead as if he could rub the massive hangover headache away. He glanced blurry-eyed at the red glowing hotel alarm clock that revealed it was barely six a.m., then glared at Sam. "Couldn't you wait a few hours? I was just having an awesome dream; Sasha Gray was giving me a lap dance." Dean looked off into the distance longingly as he recalled the dream.

Sam's previous annoyance with Dean disappeared, and he smirked. "Well, that explains that goofy-ass grin on your face before I woke you up. In fact, I still think I see a little drool." Sam pointed to the left side of his mouth with amusement in his eyes.

Dean lightly slapped the corner of his mouth and wiped it away. "Whatever, man. What did you find that was so important it couldn't wait?"

"There was an accidental drowning last night in a small harbor town in Maine called Stonington." Sam explained as he shoved his laptop into his backpack. "The locals think he tripped and fell off the dock, hitting his head on the side of the dock and accidently drowning."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Well, that seems like a reasonable conclusion."

"Yea, that's what I thought too. Until I dug a little deeper and saw that there has been a string of drownings going back since the twenties."

"That's not exactly unusual in fishing town, Sammy. When you live by the water, there are incidents involving drowning" Dean pointed out, not seeming convinced this was a case for them to look into. He thought if Sam woke him up this early without a real lead, he was going to be pissed.

"Yeah, but are several witnesses claiming they saw people just walk into the water and not come back out usual? None of these people had any previous mental problems. And get this, all of the drowning victims are men. Plus, there's been a few reports about a white-haired woman appearing in the water at the harbor." Sam gave Dean a pointed look as he slung his backpack over his shoulder, indicating it was time to go.

Dean nodded. "Alright. Let's hit the road then."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - **Dockside Café in Stonington, Maine

Sam slid into the booth across from Dean who was frowning down at his plate of food.

"Is that a lobster roll?" Sam asked with astonishment coloring his tone, knowing Dean never eats fish.

"There are only two restaurants in this freaking town and none of them have any meat on their menu!" he exclaimed, looking outraged by this fact.

The corners of Sam's mouth curled up. "This is a fishing town, you know." He eyed the sandwich hungrily. "So you're not going to eat that?"

Dean directed his scowl from his food to Sam. "We need to get this job done fast - before I starve." His hunger was already starting to make him grumpy. "Tell me you found something at the morgue."

Sam pulled Dean's food toward him and shook his head. "Nothing we didn't already know before."

A young brunette waitress noticed Sam's arrival and strolled up to the table. "Anything else I can get you?" she asked sweetly, her gaze lingering on Dean.

Dean gave her a once over, taking in her short white sundress and pink lipstick. He smiled widely at her, suddenly hungry for something other than food. "That depends on what are you offering" he replied slyly.

A light blush spread across the young woman's cheeks. She stammered, looking down at the wooden floor. "I-I meant the menu."

"So did I" Dean offered her an innocent look, but his eyes hinted at his true intentions.

The woman seemed to buy his innocence though. "Oh, I'm s-so sorry. I thought –," her blush deepened and she cleared her throat. "Never mind. Our special of the day is the clam chowder" she said hurriedly.

Dean looked slightly nauseated. "Anything without fish?"

She grinned at him, raising an eyebrow. "Hate to break it to you, but you've come to the wrong town if you don't like seafood. We do have pie though. We don't put it on the menu because our cook makes a different kind every day." The woman glanced over at the counter. "Today, it looks like the Maine Blueberry Pie."

Dean beamed at her. "Perfect. I'll take two slices."

She smiled shyly at his delight. "Coming right up."

Dean glanced back at Sam. "Pie," he repeated eagerly.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's enthusiasm and swallowed the last bite of his roll. "Dude, how about you stop thinking about sex and food for two seconds –if that's even possible—and ask her about the damn case. The locals come here so she's probably heard some of the rumors from them."

"Can't I eat my pie first?" Dean asked, looking sullen like a kid who was told he couldn't have dessert before dinner.

Sam shot Dean a look piercing.

"Fine," Dean muttered.

As the waitress leaned down to put the dishes on the table, he gave her his best sexy half-smile and leaned toward her, inches away from her face as he slid his arm over the top of the booth. "So, I'm Dean. Do you mind if I ask you a question?" Dean asked and then looked down at the nametag pinned to her dress above her breasts. "Grace," he added in seductive tone. His eyes rested on her breasts a few seconds longer than necessary.

Grace gawked at him wide-eyed like a deer caught in headlights. Apparently, unable to speak, she just nodded and stood up right to get some distance between them.

"Do you know anything about the sightings of white-haired woman at the docks?" Dean questioned, holding her gaze. "We overheard a few locals talking about it at the hotel," he explained.

She looked taken aback, thinking he was going to ask her out and found herself disappointed that he didn't even though he was a complete stranger to her. A lot of tourists came in here and tried to hit on her, it was just part of the job, but she never responded to them the way she responded to Dean. Then again, none of them were as gorgeous as him. Grace blinked a few times to clear away her disappointed thoughts. "Um, yeah. Some superstitious people in town think she's a ghost or something that's haunting the harbor."

The brothers exchanged a meaningful look.

She waved her hand dismissively as if she was trying to wave the silly idea from existence. "Ignore them. We've got a lot of fisherman here and they believe in a lot of weird superstitions. Old Billy believes that having a virgin pee on a new net is good luck."

Sam snorted into the ice water he was drinking and Dean chuckled.

"Okay, point taken," Dean said, grinning at Grace.

"Get back to work, Grace," a stern-looking woman said from entrance to the kitchen.

Grace jumped guiltily. "Sorry, Mrs. Pierce," she squeaked.

"I'm not paying you to stand around and socialize," the older woman added firmly.

"Gotta get back to work," Grace whispered, glancing down at the guys. "It was nice meeting you both."

The brothers nodded at her.

After she walked away, Dean started shoving pie into his piehole.

Sam's forehead creased in thought. "So are we thinking the thing that's ganking these people is some pissed off ghost?"

" 'Akes sense," Dean said through a full mouth. After swallowing, he continued, "Do your computer nerd crap. Check to see if any woman drowned at the docks in the twenties since that's when this all started."

"And what will you be doing?" Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother. Sometimes it felt like he did all the work while Dean spent his time doing whatever or whoever he pleased. Although Sam would never admit it to him, he was jealous of his brother. Dean always got women's attention—that waitress barely noticed his presence—and Sam always got left out in the cold, alone.

Dean shot him an impatient look. He was so damn tired of Sam's brooding attitude. "I'll be talking to the local fisherman to see if we can get any more info on this ghost."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Harbor Motel

The front door slammed shut, dragging Sam away from his failing efforts of trying to find the woman who died at the docks. He closed the laptop and rubbed his eyes, starting to feel the lack of sleep the past few days taking its toll.

Dean's boots pounding against the polished wooden floor echoed in the silent room as he approached. "You look like crap, dude. Here's a pick-me-up," Dean said, shoving a cup of coffee in front of Sam's face.

Sam grabbed it and mumbled a thanks to his brother. He took a large swig of the lukewarm coffee.

Dean dropped into the chair across from Sam and reclined his feet on top of the table. Dirt from his boots splattering all over the table.

"Seriously, man?" Sam said exasperatedly, knocking his feet off the table. "We eat here, you know."

"So then just clean the table off," Dean replied in an irritable tone, taking a sip of his own coffee.

Sam shot Dean a dirty look. "Blow me. It's your mess, you clean it up. I'm not your friggin' maid."

Dean raised his eyebrows at his brother. "What the hell is your problem? On second thought, don't answer because I don't give a rat's ass. Just tell me what you found about the woman who died at the docks so we can gank this bitch and get the hell out of here."

Sam tried to let go of his anger toward his brother so they could focus on the case. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately and as a result, he could feel that rage boiling just below the surface, knowing it was like an active volcano that was going to erupt violently sooner or later. Sam shoved the dark thoughts away as quickly as they came.

Frustration lined his features and he let out a loud sigh. "I couldn't find any women drowning here in the twenties. I checked all the records."

Dean's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's weird."

Sam tilted his head thoughtfully. "Well, maybe not that weird. There was a fire at city hall in the forties. Maybe some of the records got destroyed. Crap like that happens sometimes."

Dean grunted in agreement. "So much for a simple salt-n-burn. This case just got much harder. How are we supposed to toast this ghost extra crispy if we have no freakin' clue where the remains are?"

Sam shrugged, tipping the last of his coffee into his mouth. "What did you find out?"

"The fishermen all believe that she's luring these men out to sea to drown them, which helps us jack-squat because we already knew that."

Sam pinched his eyebrows together in concentration. "But, how? And why? If we could find motive, it could help us find the remains."

"It's usually revenge. Some dude offs her and she wants to take it out on every damn guy she comes across." Dean throws his coffee cup into the trash can half way across the room and makes the shot. He grins proudly at his accomplishment and winks at Sam.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother's childishness. "Yeah, probably. But, there's still the how? How's she getting these guys to drown themselves? Possession? It would take a damn powerful ghost to have that kind of control over a human."

Dean's eyes lit up as an idea popped into his head. "I say let's go meet this bitch and find out. You know how these ghosts like to whine about the wrongs done to them. Maybe she'll talk too much and let something slip that will lead us to her body."

Sam looked at Dean like he was crazy. "So your plan is to chat up the ghost and hope she spills where her body is buried? That's the worst plan I've ever heard. How about we actually think this through instead of going off and doing crazy shit that could get us killed."

"Stop being so dramatic, Sammy," Dean replied nonchalantly. "We can handle a stupid ghost. How many have we killed? Too many to count, that's how many. Besides, we've got those anti-possession tats that work on ghosts too. So we just have to distract her long enough to get some answers. Easy-peasy. Unless you've got a better idea?" Dean raised his eyebrows in challenge.

Sam glanced at Dean with determination. "Yeah, actually, I do. We could summon a spirit from the twenties to tell us instead of having a face-down with a homicidal ghost."

"Great idea, and do we have all the ingredients for that spell on us right now?" Dean questioned sarcastically, knowing they were missing two key ingredients that they couldn't find in this Podunk town.

"Well, no but we -" Sam started.

"But nothing, Sam." Dean interrupted sharply. "Playing it safe could get someone killed.

What if while we are tracking down the stupid spell supplies someone else gets killed? Then it would be on us. Is that what you want?"

Sam pressed his lips together tightly, trying to contain his anger. "No, of course not."

"Then we do it my way." Dean's tone made it clear the topic was closed for further discussion.

_Thanks for reading =) The next chapter will be available tomorrow. Also, I really appreciate reviews because they help me improve my work, which is important to me so any comments or criticisms (good or bad) are welcome! _


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Dock's Parking Lot – Midnight.

Dean and Sam stood over the open trunk of the Impala, gearing up to confront the ghost. Dean threw Sam one of the shotguns loaded with rock salt and picked up an iron fireplace poker for himself.

Sam shoved some extra rock salt rounds into his jacket pocket and then slammed the trunk shut. "This is a bad idea, Dean," he said with concern etched into his features.

Dean glanced at Sam. His eyes were gleaming with eagerness for the hunt. "We've had worse. Ready?"

Sam let out a disappointed sigh. He had been hoping to talk his brother out of this insane idea at the last minute, but seeing that excitement in his eyes, he knew he couldn't change Dean's mind. "Ready," he replied with grim determination in his tone.

As they stepped onto the pier, they gave each other an intense look that said they had each other's back's no matter what. When they were hunting, things between them became simple and clear because they left all their issues with each other back in the real world – they had to or else one of them would get killed. During a hunt, the brothers were closer and trusted each other without question; this was the part of the hunt Sam liked – not the violence and action that Dean got a high off of.

The cold sea breeze whipped around them as they made their way down the dark docks. They scanned their surroundings with alert eyes. Once the brothers made their way to the end of the docks, where the local had been right before he died, they searched the open water for any signs of the ghost, finding nothing they cast a sideways glance at each other.

"Now, what?" Sam asked.

"Now, we wait. She'll show her ugly ghost face soon enough. Two men just standing out here, waiting – she won't be able to resist the temptation to try and off us." Dean leaned against the wooden post at the end of the dock casually as if he didn't have care in the world.

Sam stood with his arms crossed and frowned at the sea.

They didn't have to wait long.

"Dean," Sam whispered urgently, tapping his brother's arm. "Look at that."

Dean followed his brother's gaze into the water. Fifty feet from them, a glowing white figure appeared in the water, too far to make any distinct features out. He straightened up and clenched his fist around the poker.

The sound of Sam racking his shotgun rippled through the night.

Within seconds, her head came up from the surface of the water right in front of them, giving them a captivating smile. Her glowing pearl white hair blew gently in the breeze. The woman's hair may have been white, but her face was young with absolutely perfect features and stunning bright green eyes. Those eyes shifted toward Dean and fixed to him with a burning intensity.

Warning flags immediately went off in Sam's head telling him that this thing was no ghost. They had been dead wrong. Now, they were facing down an unknown creature and in their line of work, nothing was more dangerous than that. If you didn't know what the creature was, you didn't know what it was capable of or how to kill it. It's rarely lack of skill that gets hunters killed – it's lack of knowledge about their enemy. They needed to haul ass out of here now…before it was too late.

Sam spun to face Dean. "Let's go," he demanded.

Dean was staring slack-jawed at the woman. His green eyes sparkled with wonder.

Worry slithered its way inside Sam. He looked from Dean to the woman floating in the water, their eyes were locked together. "Dean," Sam shouted at his brother, shaking his shoulder roughly.

"In a minute, Sammy," Dean replied dreamily without breaking eye contact with the woman. "I just want to listen to her song a little while longer."

The realization that whatever she did to all those dead men, she was doing to Dean right now, slammed into him with brutal force. His worry gave way to anger.

He pointed the shotgun at the woman and fired, the sound ripped noisily through the dead silence of the night. The salt rounds had no effect on her; she was still concentrating on Dean. Sam dropped the shotgun to the ground and swiftly pulled his 9mm from the back of his jeans. Sam's features were twisted in rage as he aimed the gun at her and shot her three times in the face with silver bullets. Relief seeped into him for a moment when he saw that she was bleeding, but right before his eyes, the wounds he inflicted started to heal and the bullets pushed themselves out of her.

"Shit," Sam muttered, his panic starting to rise.

Dean took a step forward toward the woman—inches away from the edge of the dock—unable to resist her influence over him any longer.

An idea flashed into Sam's head that gave him a renewed sense of hope. "Sorry, Dean" he said. "No other option." He punched Dean in the face with enough force to knock him out cold and caught him before he fell into the water. Can't jump into the water and drown yourself if you aren't conscious, he thought to himself.

Without missing a beat, Sam dragged Dean down the dock with one arm while emptying his clip at the creature. After he ran out of bullets, he carried Dean with both hands, allowing them to get away faster. When he was half way down the docks, she climbed out of the water onto the docks to follow them.

She had a fishing net wrapped around her like a dress and her hands and feet were webbed. Sam stared wide-eyed for a second before breaking eye contact with her in case she needed it to hypnotize her victims, but apparently she didn't because he started to hear the faint sound of indescribably beautiful music and the urge to stay her with her. Every second the music grew louder, and his willpower chipped away a little more. He started dragging Dean more slowly, wanting to linger here with her as long as he could.

_No_, he screamed inside his head just as he made it over the last wooden plank of the dock. The music became dimmer with the more distance he put between himself and that thing. He had a feeling she couldn't get too far from the water with those webbed feet and was betting she wouldn't make it past the docks.

Sam paused for a second to sling Dean over his shoulders and made his way across the parking lot, his muscles struggling with the weight of Dean's body. He made a mental note to tell Dean to lay off the damn burgers. By the time Sam got to the Impala, he couldn't hear the music or see the woman following them.

After accidently hitting Dean's head against the car door a few times while trying to get him in the car, Sam finally managed to drop Dean into the passenger seat. Dean's body immediately slumped over as he hit his head yet again on the console.

When they were half way back to the hotel, Dean grunted from the passenger seat and scanned his surroundings. "What the hell happened? And why does my head hurt?" He gave Sam an accusatory glance.

Sam looked at Dean innocently, which only made Dean more suspicious about his head injury. "It's a long story," Sam answered.

**This story is on a temporary hold. I am currently pursuing a much larger FF writing project that will take priority, but I will come back and finish this in a few months. I never leave a story unfinished; it will just take some time. I might be able to find the time to post a new chapter a week if there is serious interest in seeing it finished before then. If not, then by May I'll have it completed. **


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